


trust-colored eyes

by carefulren



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Ass-Kicking, Gen, Hostage Situations, ManDadlorian, Minor Violence, On the Run, Protective Dad, the helmet comes off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: “Move, and this creature dies.”Though his heart is pounding loud enough to drown his ears, he can hear the faint beeping of a tracking device, and slowly, he raises both hands in a show of small surrender. He carefully moves his head toward the voice, and across from him, with large flames of the fire separating them, he sees some asshole with a blaster pressed to the kid’s head.(the one where Mando thinks he and the kid are on an abandoned planet, but he's very wrong)
Relationships: n/a
Comments: 29
Kudos: 370





	trust-colored eyes

He dozes off without meaning to, a small slip-up spanned from growing exhaustion. 

He spent majority of the day walking through vast, snowy woods of a seemingly abandoned planet with the kid perched on his shoulder. It grew dark faster than he expected, and they were quite far from his ship. He started a fire and set up a small camp for the night, and the quiet crackling mixed with the comfortable heat of the fire left his eyes drooping until his mind grew quiet. 

He’s not out long. It’s not the faint crunch of a boot on snow that pulls him awake; it’s the soft whimper from the kid that has his eyes shooting open and his hand going straight for the blaster at his side. 

“Move, and this creature dies.” 

Though his heart is pounding loud enough to drown his ears, he can hear the faint beeping of a tracking device, and slowly, he raises both hands in a show of small surrender. He carefully moves his head toward the voice, and across from him, with large flames of the fire separating them, he sees some asshole with a blaster pressed to the kid’s head. 

“Let the kid go,” he growls out from deep within his chest. 

“Why? This thing is my target, and I’ll make a pretty price off of it.” 

His mind is moving far faster than he would like. He’s playing through scenarios, frantically searching for the next words that will derail the situation without the kid getting hurt. 

“But…”

He keeps his eyes trained to the blaster that’s pushed against the kid’s skin but draws his attention toward the next sentence.

“Your armor… It looks expensive.”

“Get on with it,” he spits out, agitation spiking across his bones, his fingers twitching to snag his blaster. 

“I’ll let you have the kid unharmed if you give me your armor. All of it.”

He drags his gaze from the blaster to the unhinged man before he slowly moves his hand to his chest plate. 

“Stop.” 

He freezes, cocking his head to the left in silent question. 

“Helmet first. I want to look the Mando I bested in the eyes.” 

He moves his hands toward his helmet, one hand against each side of cool metal, but anxiety bubbles in his chest. His mind is at war with itself, and his heart is beginning to pick up in speed once more. He hits a brief moment of defeat, sure that he cannot go through with removing his helmet, but then the kid cries out to him softly, and his heart jerks painfully against his chest. 

He puffs out a shaking sigh before he slides the helmet up and off his head. The heat of the fire hits his bare cheeks instantly, and his rapid breaths cloud in front of him. 

“Wow, a pretty boy. Shame you chose such a disguised religion. Let me see it.”

He gets to his feet carefully, hands still raised, and moves around the fire until he’s beside the two. He drops his helmet into the outstretched hand, watching carefully as the man’s focus shifts toward the expensive hunk of metal. The man’s eyes almost gleam at the sight, and he uses this brief moment of distraction to act. 

Without a clear plan, he reaches for his helmet, moving faster than the man, and slams the helmet against the man’s face. The man loses his balance, and that’s all he needs. 

He dodges a few sporadic shots of the blaster before he grabs the man’s wrist, snapping it so he can get a steady hold of the weapon. 

He can hear the light thump of the kid falling to the ground. He wants to look, but the man is already pushing back up with a curse. 

“You son of a–”

He presses the blaster to the man’s forehead and shoots. Blood splatters all around him, and the man’s body slumps to the ground. For a moment, only the sound of his heavy breathing and the crackling fire chase the faint echo of the blaster shot, but then the kid cries out, and he drops the blaster and spins on his heel. 

The kid is lying in the snow, struggling to get up, and he drops to his knees beside it, gently lifting the shaking body to its feet. Their eyes meet, a deep black gaze against a worried, furrowed one, but then the kid coos lightly and smiles at him, ears wiggling. 

Relief washes heavily over him, and he sighs, long and deep, shoulders slumping as tense muscles smooth to a warm comfort. 

“Looks like this planet is a no-go,” he mutters, scooping the kid up with one hand while he snags his helmet with the other. There’s blood splattered across the clean metal, and he slides it over his head before pressing the kid close to his chest. 

He kicks some snow over the fire, spares a glance toward the lifeless body, then starts the long trek back to his ship, stopping only to smash his boot against the beeping tracker. 

**Author's Note:**

> Wasn't sure if I should use the Dyn name that Pedro so nicely dropped for us, or if using the Mandalorian repeatedly would be an overkill, so I just used pronouns.. 
> 
> Hi, okay so this is my very first fic for the Mandalorian, but I've been dying to write for it. Hope it's okay! Feedback is always appreciated!


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